


Baby Love

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:12:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ron was the love of Hermione's life until someone else came along.





	Baby Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

           They say the husband is always the last to know.  Actually, it was obvious from the start how Hermione felt about him.  There was no mistaking the sparkle in her eyes when they spent time together.  She showered him with kisses, bought him gifts, and never stopped talking about him.  

 

            “I don’t understand what you see in him,” I complained.  “He’s bald and toothless, and he drools.”

 

            “Oh, hush,” Hermione laughed, coming to sit on my lap.  “He has other redeeming qualities.”  

 

            I spotted a brightly-wrapped box on the table.  

 

            “You haven’t gone and bought him another gift!  We’re not made of money, love.”

 

            “I think you’re jealous,” she announced.  “There’s no reason to be.  It isn’t like we see each other every day.  I still have plenty of time for you.”  

 

            I had to be content with that, until the day I came home and found him in our bed.  She was lying next to him, gazing adoringly into his chocolate-brown eyes.     

 

            “This is too much, Hermione.  I don’t mind you meeting at his place, but now he’s invaded the sanctity of our home!” I said sternly.   

 

            “Harry surprised Ginny with a weekend getaway for her birthday.  We’re keeping James while they’re gone,” Hermione said happily.  “That’s three whole days with this lovely boy!”

 

            I noticed the amount of luggage the lovely boy had brought:  a crib, changing table, stroller, and two large suitcases.  It seemed like a lot for just three days. 

 

            “They are coming back for him, right?” I asked suspiciously.

 

            “That’s an awful thing to say,” Hermione scolded.  “Don’t mind what Uncle Ron says, my darling.  Mummy and Daddy will be back on Sunday, just like they promised.”

 

            I hoped Mummy and Daddy would get some rest during their trip.  Lack of sleep had turned Ginny into a shrew, and Harry kept dozing off at his desk.         

 

            Hermione let me hold James while she prepared his bottle.  The can of baby formula surprised me.  

 

            “I thought Ginny was feeding him,” I said.       

 

            “She wasn’t producing enough.  He’s been weaned for quite some time, didn’t you know?”    

 

            “I must have missed the announcement in the _Daily Prophet_ ,” I commented.  My sarcasm went unchallenged as Hermione gave James his bottle.  I had to admit they made a pretty picture.  We weren’t quite ready to start a family, but I knew Hermione would be a wonderful mother when the time came.  

 

            I started to move the crib into the guest room at bedtime, but Hermione stopped me.  

 

            “Ginny forgot to bring the baby monitor, so he’ll have to sleep in here.”

 

            “But there isn’t room for both the crib and changing table,” I pointed out.  

 

            Hermione laid James on the bed and began unsnapping his sleeper suit.  

 

            “I don’t know that we need the table; we can use the bed.  Put it in the hall,” she directed.  

 

            “You want me to put the bed in the hall?” I teased her.  

 

            “The changing table,” she said impatiently, removing James’s soaked nappy and reaching for the wipes.

 

            I missed what happened next, which was a pity.  It marked a definite turning point in their relationship.  Hermione gave a sort of gurgled scream and ran to the bathroom.  I could hear her spitting and gagging into the sink.  Biting back laughter, I quickly put a fresh nappy on my nephew.    

 

            “You’ve done it now,” I whispered.  “Don’t expect any more presents from Aunty Hermione.”

 

            I put him in his crib while Hermione took her second shower of the evening.  Actually, her third if you counted the one James gave her.  He settled down to sleep, and I hoped we would do the same.  But I hadn’t counted on how sexy Hermione looked when she climbed in next to me.    

 

            “We can’t,” she protested when I reached for her.  “Not in front of James.”  

 

            “He’s asleep.  He won’t hear a thing.”

 

            “ _No,_ Ronald!  We couldn’t possibly,” she said with finality before turning out the light.  

 

            It didn’t stay off for long.  I was almost asleep when an ear-splitting shriek filled the room.  We couldn’t figure out what was wrong.  He didn’t need changing and he wasn’t hungry.  We took turns walking the floor with him, but he wouldn’t stop crying.  Hermione thought he might have the colic, but she had no idea how to treat it.  We were about to fire-call Mum for help when he finally stopped.  The sudden silence was almost deafening.  Hermione put him back in his crib and we fell into bed, completely exhausted.  

 

            “No,” she whimpered two hours later when he woke us.  “Not again.”

 

            “He’s probably just hungry.  I’ll take care of it,” I yawned.  I carried James downstairs and fixed his bottle.  The formula smelled like sour milk; I wondered how he could stomach it.  Not wanting to awaken Hermione, I sat down on the sofa to feed him.  He was wide awake afterward, so I sang him a verse of “Weasley is Our King.”  It put us both out.

 

            Nothing much was accomplished the next day.  We felt dragged out and listless.  Hermione’s new book lay untouched; she was too tired to read.  I paid a neighbor’s boy to cut the grass instead of doing it myself.  James ate well and napped twice.  Whatever had bothered him the previous night seemed to have been resolved.    

 

            “There’s something I’ve been trying to remember,” Hermione frowned.  “It’s been nagging at me all day.”

 

            “Can’t help you there,” I said, smothering a huge yawn.  “Whew!  I never realized how much work was involved in taking care of a baby.”

 

            We were asleep on the sofa when the doorbell rang.  The sound woke James, and Hermione went upstairs to tend him.  Neville and Hannah were at the door, dressed for an evening out.  

 

            “I take it you’re not quite ready,” Neville said, grinning at my dishelved appearance.  

 

            “Ready for what?”  

 

            “We’re all going out to dinner.  Hermione and I arranged it a few days ago; did she forget to tell you?” Hannah asked.  

 

            “She must have.  We’re keeping James this weekend, so I guess we’ll have to bow out,” I explained.  

 

            “Ron!  Come here, he’s done a major poo and there aren’t any more wipes!” Hermione howled from upstairs. 

 

            Hannah and Neville couldn’t restrain their amusement.  

 

            “Ron to the rescue,” he smirked as they left.    

 

            I emptied the suitcases in a vain search for more wipes, nearly gagging at the stench permeating the room.  Hermione sacrificed a washcloth to clean James, but not before he used his heels to smear the nappy’s contents on the duvet.  I forgot to tell her who had stopped by and she forgot to ask.  She offered to go out for more wipes, but I was afraid she wouldn’t come back.  I went myself, stopping at a café for takeout.  We hadn’t eaten a hot meal all day.  

 

              It was bedtime before our room was in order again.  The freshly-laundered duvet smelled wonderful.  I wanted nothing more than to crawl under it and lose myself in sleep.  Hermione had tucked James in and fallen face down across the bed, still in her jeans and t-shirt.  We were definitely getting a taste of what it would be like when we became parents.  

 

            “Should we take him out for some air when he wakes up?” I asked the next day.

 

            “Why would we do that?  I’m so tired I can hardly move,” Hermione groaned from the sofa.  

 

            “He brought a stroller.  I thought he might like to go for a walk.”

 

            “You take him, then.  I’ll wait here in case Harry and Ginny come back early.”

 

            But I couldn’t do that.  I still considered my wife a flight risk.  The only way I knew to keep her at home was to shag her senseless.  So I did.    

 

            We had just gotten dressed and put the lounge to rights when Ginny and Harry arrived.  They looked fresh and rested.  Hermione and Ginny went upstairs to collect James.  Harry noticed the circles under my eyes.  

 

            “Long weekend?” he chuckled.  

 

            “Not too bad, but I don’t think Hermione will be obsessing over James as much,” I replied.  

 

            “Good.  We were running out of space for all those gifts she kept buying,” he commented.   

 

            “It’s nice to have things back to normal,” I said later, as we cuddled together under the duvet.  “No dirty nappies, no round-the-clock feedings.”  

 

            “For a while, anyway,” Hermione smiled.  

 

            “What do you mean?”

 

            “I was so tired that I forgot to take my potion,” she said.  “It’s the middle of my cycle, which means I’m probably ovulating.”  

 

            “Does that mean what I think it does?” I demanded.  

 

            I found out three weeks later that it did.  

 

                        

 

   

 

             

 

            

 


End file.
